The Sharp Knife of A Short Life
by SibylleVein
Summary: Clove the ruthless career tribute of the 74th Hunger Games appeared to live a short but simplistic life. She killed, so that she could live, that was it. But behind every twisted soul is the person who contorted it.
1. Chapter One: Deception

**The Sharp Knife of A Short Life**

**Summary**: Clove the ruthless career tribute of the 74th Hunger Games appeared to live a short but simplistic life. She killed, so that she could live, that was it. But behind every twisted soul is the person who contorted it. Cato and Clove POV. I suck at summaries, just read…first fanfic. Clato.

**Disclaimer****:** I wish I had the right to claim the Hunger Games and these characters, but that only lies with the lovely Suzanne Collins!

**Chapter One:** Deception

**Clove's POV**

"Hey, girl!" shouted a crude voice, normally I would be above responding to the title "girl" but this rough call came from the head trainer of my academy. The academy that will train me so that someday no one can call me by "girl", so that someday they will all know my name. And so with a muttered string of insults I turn and put on my best attempt of a smile, although I know its looks more like a grimace. He has called my attention to let me know it is my turn to spar. I get to my feet and walk across the mat, for the first time taking in my opponent. She is of stocky build, no doubt better fed then myself, but I was use to that here at the academy. Where most of its students came with full stomachs from the homes of peacekeepers, while I was the daughter of a quarry miner. Most would think it's of my disadvantage but I am determined to prove them wrong.

As I approach her I recognize a girl of whom I have shared few, very brief encounters with. She is strong no doubt; probably able to beat some of the males in our own age range, but that is where her advantages end. She is stupid and arrogant. I am not surprised as these are traits that many of students here possess. All rage, no rational thought. And as if she is determined to prove her point to me, when the whistle blows she immediately charges. No thought, no strategy, what a brute. I roll my eyes, and quickly dive out of her way. She looks back stunned and furious. And to fuel her further a smile tugs at my lips and I wear my trademark smirk. I register the stark disbelief, as she cannot believe my nerve. This thought has probably crossed the minds of all those who observe in the sweltering gym. They have never seen me fight, and judging by my small stature they believe this fight is grossly unfair at best.

**Cato's POV**

This fight was grossly unfair at best. I turn to the boy on my left, grinning and say "I bet she lasts no longer than a minute." I see the challenge register in his eyes, and know like all the others at this academy his pride would win out. He breaks and replies "Fine, but you owe me 10 bucks if she lasts past a minute and a half." I agree, sealing the deal with a rough handshake. My attention is brought back to the mat when I hear a grunt of frustration coming from Kaylin, the hefty girl with a mass of red curls. She seemed to almost have charged off the matt in an attempt to tackle the small girl. The girl had enough smarts to narrowly escape her charge, I shrugged unimpressed and awaiting the real fight to start. But it seems I am waiting in vain, as for the next minute the girl seems to escape her clutches every charge. It actually proves to be quite comedic. Kaylin, red in the face, baring her teeth grows more exhausted by the second. She looks almost moronic, like a cat lunging for the string only to have it torn from its grasp at the last minute. This goes on for at least half a minute more and I sense Cabe, the head trainer becoming restless with the lack of violence. She must sense it too and as Cabe yells at the girl to stop playing with her, she doesn't seem to need to be told.

She is already moving with a swift run, covering the space between them before Kaylin can even register what is happening. This is when the small girl pounces on her and holds her to the ground, as if she has been pinning giant bodies all her life. Kaylin snarls angrily, but it is laced with a trace of defeat. We all sense it, we are careers. Hell, we can smell it. That's when Cabe trots over and announces the victory to the girl. I look at her more closely with a new sense of interest

. Her wide brown eyes are alight with victory that only the conquering of another can bring. Her small body heaves with deep breaths and her hair has come undone, parts clinging to her damp forehead. She was eerily beautiful. And that smirk that was ever present- a confidence behind it that had seemed totally unwarranted before now- had been earned. Maybe it had been warranted all along; I had only taken notice of her skill now. I knew that I had underestimated her –a dangerous thing- although I knew I was not alone. The disbelief was etched and undisguised on the faces of all those who had witnessed the fight, and she seemed to relish every one of them. I was brought back by the boy beside me announcing my own defeat and demanding his payment. I shoved the bills in his hand angrily and shoved him to the side.

Cabe announced that we had been released for lunch break, but as everyone trudged through the gym door I lingered, watching as girl inspected her set of knives. Carefully arranging them and ensuring they were all accounted for, and once she was satisfied she turned to leave. Suddenly she stood stationary, her hand poised on the door handle, sunlight streaming through the small crack. She turned to face me, as if she had known I had been there observing her all along, and simply asked, "Do we have a problem here?" As I concealed my initial shock and plastered a cocky grin on my face, "Yeah," I replied, "I never caught your name."

"Clove," she said, and departed with that single word. Later that night I could not help my wandering thoughts. Of Clove, who's name, and dusting of freckles upon her nose, and tiny figure created her own deadly deception; a deception of innocence.


	2. Chapter Two: Worthy

AN: This story is heavily influenced by the song "If I die Young" by The Band Perry, I would suggest listening to it, its beautiful You will see some quotes from the song throughout the chapters as well! Thanks for the reviews it honestly means the world to me :O

Chapter Two: Worthy

Cato POV

I haven't seen her since that day in training, the day when she proved she was worthy to be noticed. And noticed she was. At once talk of her spread like wildfire, the classrooms alight with fierce gossip at the hands of other girls. Their desperate tones filled with malice as they discussed her poor origins. I tried to ignore their words as they were born from jealousy, but my curiosity always won out. I had already known she was the daughter of a quarry miner. It was hard to ignore as the Academy rarely made exceptions to a person of her class. When she was admitted questions arose, and anger erupted by some members of the academy council, my parents included. I already knew they thought lowly of the girl from the quarries, but until now she had spent her time under the radar, brushing just beneath their thoughts. There was no hope for her now, to go back under. She had condemned herself without knowing.

Clove POV

I noticed their stares, the whispers that I left in my wake in the school hallways. It didn't faze me for a second, let them talk, this was my victory. It had gone farther than pinning Kaylin to the ground that day, I had clasped onto the ignorant faces of those who had doubted me and forced them to acknowledge that I could do this, I stood a fighting chance. The elite citizens of District 2 and their spoiled, pretentious spawn were fooling themselves if they thought I would let them take the glory. They were born and bred for this, coddled with special treats, read bedtime stories of glory about the Hunger Games, and when their head fell to the pillow they dreamed of this. They wanted everything the Hunger Games offered, but it was a childish want, a foolish one. It had fed their narcissism and delusional thoughts of invincibility. But I was ready; I had faced reality and my fate along time ago. I didn't just want this; I needed this. I knew there was no going back now, but I was ready.

Cato POV

She wasn't ready for them. I could tell the moment she slipped out of the door quietly, her footsteps fading with the soft pattering of raindrops, breaking at the surface of the hot pavement. It was as if she folded into herself, her mind and thoughts held deeply within her, paying no attention to the outside world at all. As if she thought that if she could just become smaller maybe the world would let her disappear. Maybe that's how she had been so invisible to all of us for so long.

We turned the corner as soon as she was far enough from the training centre, and Cinder was the first to gain her attention, she called out to her, "Hey Quarry Kid! Where are you going so soon? We never got to _congratulate_ you for the little stunt you pulled the other day." Our little group of four snickered at her words. We were all aware we had not come here to congratulate her, and as she her dark eyes scanned our faces she reached the same conclusion. It would be a terrifying sight to any normal 15 year old kid, 4 careers trained to kill with their bare hands, all leering in her direction. But this was Clove and despite how little I knew of her, I had gathered that she wouldn't back down. Her eyes held a cold steely look of indifference, as if she had encountered this type of situation rather frequently. She let out an impatient sigh and boldly walked towards us. Her steps halted as she stood 3 metres from us. She waited staring expectedly at the group of us, her eyes lingered on mine a little longer than necessary and I felt my eyes shift to the pavement. Feeling that for some strange reason I couldn't maintain eye contact. The tension in the air was so intense, I could almost taste it. A taste as sharp of one of the knives in her cherished collection. Finally she spoke, soft and even. As if not to antagonize the group but the make it clear, she was not backing down either. "Well, thanks for your congratulations," she continued, "the head trainers choice of tributes this year should be…interesting."

Interesting. It was a neutral word, one that held no connotation of good, or bad, but everyone in the group absorbed the implication of this word, and none had felt the need to dismiss it. "Interesting? Hardly!" replied Cinder. Clove narrowed her eyes ever so slightly and her brows pulled together. Cato would have found this comedic maybe even endearing if not for the situation. "How do you figure?" she retorted.

Ambiguity has never been a strong suit for us careers and Cinder broke the surface at once, diving into what we all knew was inevitable. "Oh please, its clear the tributes will be Cato and I, if you think your scrawny ass could wiggle your way into my place, then you're stupider than I thought." "Oh?" Clove questioned, "You aren't scared of a little competition are you?" I regarded the way Cinder's jaw clenched but she remained composed. "No I simply wouldn't want you harbouring under the delusion that a quarry kid could ever take the spot of one of us," she spat, "that's pathetic." Clove's trademark smirk slid into place as she cleared her throat. "No more pathetic than you Cinder. Tell mee, how is it that you can look into dear old daddy's eyes every morning and you still don't see that all you are is a weapon to them, just like those you wield everyday in training? You're just a tool Cinder, nothing more. They fatten you like a pig for slaughter, but still hold onto the hope you might reap in some rewards. And on the slim possibility you win they get the money and the luxury without ever experiencing any inconvenience. So tell me, how do you convince yourself they love you when they are so ready to ship you off to the slaughterhouse, huh? You're no better than an animal, all of you. Trained to kill, and born to die. And if you try to think anything else you're stupider than I thought," she ended with a new kind of cruelty, and turned to walk away. Cinder's body tensed, her muscles clenched with anger, Clove had unravelled her. She hit her where it hurt and Cinder was sure to return the favour. She reached for Cloves thick ponytail and pulled viciously.

Clove POV

I felt my head being pulled back and reacted at once twisting Cinder's arm with my free one. I spun around to face the four of them converging on me, I tensed ready to spring. I regretted fiercely not having a knife on me today, how could I have been so stupid? I know in this situation it would be a good idea to consider my chances, fight or flight. But this meant more then here and now. If I chose flight they would win, and I might as well never show up to the training centre again. It was hopeless and I knew that, four careers against one. But I was Clove and no way in hell was I going to go down without a fight. I would show no weakness, they weren't worth that much.

I could handle the first few blows. I was a career after all and I had long grown used to being injured. A kick to the ribs, a punch to the face but I still stood in all my bloody glory. They grew more annoyed as I maintained my smirk throughout the beating; even managing to throw a few punches myself. Relishing in the crunch of cartilage I received when my fist connected with one of their noses. And then there was Cato, who I couldn't seem to figure out. He just stood there as if he was reluctant to join in. Even so, subtracting Cato from the situation I still found the odds were not in my favour. But I took it all, without a grimace of pain or even the slightest whimper. After about 5 minutes he called for the group to stop. They looked hesitant but Cato clearly held a position of leadership over them. They turned to walk away, Cato with the parting words "She isn't worth it."

I was now sporting a black eye, a split lip and judging by the searing pain in my torso at least one broken rib. I stood up, brushing myself off although it was useless at this point. I reached for my hair gathering the loose pieces and securing it in a tight ponytail. I limped, starting in the direction of my house. The sun was just beginning to set now and I could see it bleeding against the horizon, I laughed quietly to myself because it was all I could do not to cry. By the time I arrive home I know my father will be there waiting on our ratty couch. Most days I leave immediately for home, just enough time to grab dinner and slip out of the house before he comes home but after my little interactions today I know that precious opportunity has escaped. A sniffle escapes my damaged lips and I scold myself, its been so long since I cried and I refused to let it be at the hands of those spoiled rich kids, or my drunk father. I was better than them, I was better than this town, hard as the stones it mines from the earth. I was worth more than this place and I was ready to leave it in the dust. All it held was ghosts now and I was tired of being haunted.

AN: So this Chapter I wrote to establish both Cato and Cloves lives and relationships. I promise there will be more interaction between the two in the next few chapters I know it's a bit strange as well the way Clove is depicted as both very strong and very weak at times but I wanted to establish a more realistic, dynamic character for Clove. Anyways thanks for reading, and please review


	3. Chapter Three: Realizations

Chapter Three: Realizations

Cato POV

I inhaled deeply as I walked through the front door, normally I didn't allow myself to indulge in the vulnerability of being sentimental but as the day of the reaping was approaching rapidly I figured I deserved this. Who knows how many more times I had to walk through this doorway? Or if I would return to this house alive and well, teeming with new found glory, or cold and still inside a wooden box? But no, I wasn't allowed to think like that. I shook my head to the side as if I could rid my mind of these thoughts and banish them forever. If only it was that easy. My mother called to me from the kitchen snapping me out of my morbid thoughts. I threw my bag to the side and massaged my shoulders. The day of training had taken its toll on me as usual. The familiar ache in my muscles throbbed through my arm and a subtle stinging drew my attention to the fine cut on my upper arm. The cut I notice needed little attention. It was just a graze from my sparing partner today, and I was surprised he even achieved that. He was hardly a challenge but then again, no one these days really was.

My mothers beckon lead me through a narrow hallway and I found myself drawn to the picture frames that lined our white walls. They were immaculately hung, evenly spaced, and no doubt the work of my stringent mother. Of course I paid no mind the spacing of each photograph but instead what it held, or should I say whom it held. Countless pictures of my brother and I, smiling at various ages stared back at me. Pointless photos really, my first day at the academy and Caden my brother with his two front teeth missing, but smiling none the less. In this moment somehow all the air seemed to escape my lungs, abandoning my body. It was like being punched in the stomach, only the cause was not an angry fist, but the toothless grin of my younger brother. My brother, 13 years old now and completely eligible to fight in the games I have been planning to attend for so long. It was absurd really, Caden was not in any real danger as our district has countless volunteers every year. I was reassured by the thought that I had seen him train and he wasn't much of a fighter, not likely to be chosen to represent our district. I inhaled rapidly trying to regain control of my racing heart and simultaneously closing my mind off to the cruel words that Clove had spoke earlier that day, "So tell me, how do you convince yourself they love you when they are so ready to ship you off to the slaughterhouse, huh? You're no better than an animal, all of you. Trained to kill, and born to die."

Her words trailed behind me as I reached the kitchen, greeted by my mothers smiling face. She was always smiling, but it never reached her eyes they remained cold and steely. Maybe that's how she did it. How she was able to face the possibility of parting with us every year. Not only saying her goodbyes, but also encouraging them with harsh training and tales of glory. She had detached herself from us a long time ago, leaving the photos and her fabricated smile a mere show. It was sickening that I had only realized it now, and maddening that it was only brought to my attention by Clove. I could just see her cocky little smirk. And that was all it took to snap me back. Thinking of the way she never cried out, her toughened exterior reminded me who I was. I was a killer, and it was about time I started acting like it. So I did what I always do observe, learn and replicate, starting with my mother and her steely gaze and ending with her mastered detachment.

Clove POV

The door was swinging on its hinges as I approached our ruined home, stepping carefully over the rubble that was our walkway. I had given up long ago on maintaining the crumbling building. The earth had claimed it for itself and greenery now covered the red brick. Our home was destitute and so were we, so I figured we were a fine match.

As quietly as I could I crept into the doorway at once inhaling in the smell of stale alcohol. If I could make my way upstairs and into my room without detection, maybe I could still save the night. My stomach growled with hunger but no way in hell would I chance that, I was used to being hungry. Another advantage for the games I thought to myself with disgust. I am through the doorway now, and have to duck behind the wall separating our living room from the entrance to avoid being seen. I exhale slowly with relief, and when my heartbeat returns to its usual speed I creep towards the stairs. One step after another as I will myself to keep going. It is on the third step from the top that the decaying wood betrays me; its loud creak giving me away at once.

I look around franticly for an escape somehow not knowing how to process what's happening. It may come as a shock that I am paralysed with fear threatened by my drunken father- one who I could easily over power. But ever since my mother died when I was just on the brink of six years old my father became stricken with grief and picked up the bottle. Stumbling back from the bar every night he would become enraged by the mere sight of me, I suspected it was because I looked exactly like her. He wanted her not me. Only he could never have her. Needless to say the bottle was not the only thing he had been abusing for the last 9 years. And the fear was sharp and instilled in my very core. It refused to be wrenched from within me no matter how hard I tried, and believe me I did. It is my greatest weakness, and the only thing that would reassure me is that if I trained hard enough I could leave it behind me forever.

But this was here and now and there was no reassurance in the look he was giving me. I was a deer in the headlights no doubt, doe like eyes and lips parted in shock, if I wasn't so afraid I would be ashamed. There was no point in flight, and I certainly held no chance with fight so I stood there and waited for the inevitable. He approached me acknowledging the bruises that decorated my face for the first time. He managed to slur, "Who the hell did this to you, huh? Who can I congratulate?"

"Just some kids at school," I said quietly.

"Huh, well good on them." He then hit me hard across the face and stumbled back to the couch. I tried to blink the stars that threatened my vision out of my eyes and stumbled into the kitchen. My fumbling hands managed to find a cold cloth and I held it to my cheek as I stumbled upstairs. I entered my quaint room, shutting the door behind me. I fumbled with the floorboards for a while but with the help of my favourite knife I was able to undo the weak piece of the wood. I lifted the board to reveal a small backpack beneath it. I had kept this just for nights like these, stealing food every once in a while and tucking it safely inside. It even stored a thin blanket and small water container I had acquired a while ago. Gingerly placing the bag on my shoulders, I grabbed a sweater and headed for the door. At once finding my self outside the confines of my decaying home and in the night air I felt elated. I knew my destination at once, and began on the route to the old quarry that now served as a swimming hole. Too many nights had I slept under the stars, in shelter of the bushes to escape my father. I walked in peace, with the symphony of crickets drowning out my soft footfalls and the cover of night keeping me invisible. I smiled to myself, invisible, that's how I liked it.

Cato POV

I made it through dinner somehow, donning a cold smile throughout the meaningless chatter. To be honest I tuned them out most of the time, it was always politics and complaints about work. They both served as Peacekeepers but were in fairly elite positions. I never complained before as long as food stayed on the table and later in my stomach it made no difference to me. My thoughts flashed to Clove and her bony silhouette, wondering for some odd reason if she was eating tonight. And as if on cue I heard her name grace the lips of my parents, their voices held distaste. My ears pricked up and I listened intently. Apparently she had brought chaos to the well-established order of the academy. It was never stated, but pretty much certain that the tributes chosen to compete in the year's games were the oldest and from the highest-ranking families. If the order had remained intact it was certain that Cinder and myself would be standing on stage at this years reaping. As I listened I gathered that Cloves performance the other day had become a threat to the order. Gossip had leaked that the academy's instructors were considering Clove this year. It was strange and I had no problem fathoming why it would ruffle some feathers. She was so young, 15 I recalled and it was very rare the tributes chosen were younger than 16. But it was her class that stood out to most, her class that assured them she wasn't worthy for the honour. They continued their conversation mostly hinting at Cinder's father's anger and the absurdity of the whole situation. They were offended at this possibility but it didn't affect them too much, I was a shoo-in for this years reaping. They knew it, I knew it and the entire district knew it. I wasn't sure if this thrilled or terrified me but either way I had no choice in the matter.

My appetite had abandoned me long ago and I remained at the table moving my beans around my plate. I stood suddenly, declaring that Niko and I were going to get some extra target practise in tonight and that I should leave if I wanted to make it on time. They looked up from their conversation grinning, under the deception that I was so eager to train even after hours. With their dismissal I left, bidding my brother a goodnight. As I locked the door, it struck me that I had no destination. So I looked to my right and followed the street until it hit a dead end, then choosing another route to my left. I continued this for a while, not having the slightest indication of where I was going. I didn't mind, it was a nice break from the routine and structure of my training. Finally after half an hour of wandering I found myself on the other side of town. The buildings had started to morph from the clean concrete I was familiar with, to the crumbling brick I had never ventured to see. I was aware that I was out of place and it made me feel exposed, so as I spotted an area of greenery and headed in its direction.

Clove POV

I heard the heavy footfalls before I saw their maker. The quarry, usually a small sanctuary to myself did present qualms every now and then. In the past I have run into drunks or old wasted men who had been deceived by my looks. Unfortunately for them they learned the hard way. With these experiences fresh in my mind I had no problem educating this visitor if need be.

Cato POV

I stumbled in the dark trying to find my footing on the mossy ground. An askew log caused me to fall, and I immediately cursed myself for not thinking this through. I was completely ready to call it a night and head back before I saw the rippling reflection of the moon. I headed towards the clearing to find myself near the old quarry. Although I had been here once as I child I was hardly able to recognize the landscape, it seems the cover of night had transformed the area. The effect was rather eerie as I observed the smooth water bathed in moonlight. My breath hitched as when I noticed what I had failed to before, she was standing near the mouth of the clearing, poised and ready to attack. Her body was camouflaged by the night as it seemed to envelope her dark hair and eyes. But her porcelain skin stood prominent against the night as it reflected the moons glow. Her dark eyes scanned my face and I saw a brief flicker of realization before she could suppress it. As I approached her posture did not falter, she remained stiff and ready to kill. Sensing the tension was yet to be released I stopped, standing five feet from her. For a moment we just stood there without a word. I could make out the details of her face from this close and took the opportunity to capture them. The dusting of freckles across the bridge of her delicate nose, the sharp yet pleasing angles of her face, but most of all the bruises that marred it. The bruises that I allowed to be made –but no, not all of them I could take the fall for. For I noticed a new mark of blue and purple that blossomed on her right cheek. And without thought I uttered, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Clove POV

"Like you would get the chance." I spat.

I turned around walking in the opposite direction and trying to go back the peace I had established before the dumb brute showed up. I didn't worry about being stabbed in the back-not because he had so considerately taken the time to reassure me of the fact- but because I could feel the cold steel of my favourite knife through the thin material of my pants. I stared out at the quarry and realized my attempts at returning to normal were futile; I could practically feel the heat of his gaze pierce through the night air.

"Why are you here?" I shouted, disturbing whatever calm the night had managed to hold on to.

"You've come for round two have you? Where is the rest of pack? Looks like you've planned on doing your own dirty work today. It really is too bad you won't get another chance in hell of touching me." I proceeded by pulling out my favourite knife, its deadly point glinting in the dull light.

God, there was just something so beautiful about a knife- that is of course when your not on the receiving end of it. I had yet to determine if that would be Cato's fate because when I turned around he just continued to look at me. His eyes were tracing the injuries on my face with an unreadable look. Against all my protesting thoughts a soft flush painted my cheeks, no one had ever looked at me before. And by that I mean _really _looked at me. This was no passing gaze or aimless flicker of the eyes, this was something entirely new. And I hated it. How dare he? It was some kind of nerve he had showing up mere days later and inspecting my face like a piece of intricate art, like it was his own canvas to create and then critique. I clenched my hands in uncontrollable anger. My face had been the canvas of my fathers twisted art for too long. I promised myself right then and there that it would never be at the hands of another ever again. He seemed to sense the shift in my state, but even his career instincts were no match for my perfectly disciplined agility.

I tackled him to ground, struggling due to his impressive size. Nonetheless I had him pinned to the dewy grass in no time. I somehow managed to steady the knife in my hand despite my heavy breaths. I was ready for the challenge but it never came. Even as I applied pressure to the knife creating a small fissure in his skin he did not put up the slightest fight. This infuriated me even further. He thought I wasn't even worth his effort. Just as rage began to cloud my vision he did the only thing I didn't know how to combat.

Cato POV

"I'm sorry." It emerged with my exhaling breath but the words rung clear in the silent night. She just stared at me, like it was the last thing she had expected to hear. I didn't blame her; it was the last thing I wanted to say. The only thing that was emphasized more throughout my childhood aside from the obligated bloodlust was the denial to ever regret or apologize for what I did. To perform an act and never give it a second thought, a simple task that proved impossible as I stared perplexed by the colourful strands of her dark eyes. She broke our eye contact suddenly looking in the distance to avoid my gaze. She still scowled but the anger had faded into an amusing puzzlement. Finally she demanded, "Excuse me?"

I cleared my throat repeating the words I had just spoken. And she turned her head to face me now, her eyes narrowed with renewed anger, "I'm not deaf, I heard what you said" she snapped. I could still feel the weight of her small body on mine, and to my horror I didn't mind it at all.

Clove POV

Every muscle of my body was tensed with suspicion. I still pinned him to the ground fearing he was distracting me only to get the upper hand. And although years of training had kept my thoughts paranoid, there was a small voice that urged this was different. It certainly felt different, I had never been this close to a boy before and it was doing strange things to my thoughts. We were so close now, breathing in the same air and I noticed the smell of sunshine and laundry that clung to his form. Something emerged that I had never felt before in my gut, it felt oddly like fluttering wings. I was fully disgusted with myself at this point, I was Clove, not some silly little school girl who gets butterflies from a good-looking boy- had I just admitted Cato was good-looking? This has got to stop; I got up suddenly distancing myself from him. I had no idea what to say. The only words that found their way to my lips were, "What do you think you're playing at?"

"Nothing," he replied with a scowl. "Can't you just take my apology like a normal person?"

"No I can't! Are you looking at my face right now? All these bruises? They're all thanks to you and your pathetic group of followers."

"Not all of them are," he replied, his eyes flickering to where my father had hit me only an hour earlier. This was the wrong thing to say. I could feel a new kind of rage coursing through my veins, one that might prove lethal to him if he didn't leave right now.

"Get out of my sight. Right now," the words passed through my gritted teeth laced with a very real threat. He stood up immediately brushing himself off.

"What if I don't want to?" he challenged. My response time was as sharp as the blade that was now speeding through the air. It grazed the skin of his strong neck, exactly where I had intended. I never missed.

His hand shot to his neck inspecting the damage, it was nothing crippling but it would scar. He would have no choice but to look at the faint mark and remember never to challenge me again. I could see his struggle immediately. I had not only damaged his skin but his pride as well. He was just itching to wrap those long fingers around my delicate neck. But he held back for whatever reason, clenching his hands in fists until his knuckles paled. Barely controlling his rage he spat, "Now we're even."

He walked back into the canopy of the forested area, the shadow of dark trees enveloping him so I could no longer see his shape. I could tell he was retreating though, by the quieting of his footfalls. I stood stunned and silent. Trying to piece together what has just taken place. My mind raced, sorting through the newly acquired facts and confessedly my newly acquired feelings.

AN: So finally we got to see some interaction in this chapter, YAY! Well it wasn't exactly romantic but I always imagined there to be more of an internal battle with the both of them. These feelings are clearly new to them and they still despise each other in a way :P And well they are careers so of course their pride and instincts still have to surface somewhere. Anyways thank-you to everyone who has read this story and reviewed And if you haven't reviewed please do, I would love to hear your thoughts and I'm always open to helpful criticism! All my love xx


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